Today marks one year.
We were in love.
The “You’re a great addition!” Poster is gone.
We don’t talk anymore.
You’re in love with someone new.
You can’t look at me.
You hurt me so bad. Worse than any other. I knew they never loved me back. It’s a million times harder to give up on someone you thought was a million times more of a man than anyone else.
No one will ever love me the way I do.
I trick myself into thinking I want you. I know I don’t.
You called me a narcissist. It made me feel bad every time I looked at myself in the mirror and called myself beautiful. I’m confident. Not a narcissist.
I think of the memories sometimes.
I have a box locked away with all your things. I have unsent letters in there too (unfinished love letters, the you’re-a-dickfuckingsuckingassholeshittydouche letters, and the I’m-gonna-be-okay letters).
I’m happy for you.
You once wrote, “keep your head high, for me.” You’re the reason I kept it down for a long while.
I love you.
I am not in love with you.

Fact of the day:
For me- The relationship wasn’t that big of a deal. I just hang on to things when I’m afraid of falling. But falling isn’t that bad. You get to where you have to be faster.
For you- I don’t care if you hate me, can’t look at me, give “less than half a shit” about me, blah blah blah. I know you. You know me. Remember that.